


Talk Warmth into Me

by InsaneJuliann



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Arc Reactor Failure, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, M/M, Winteriron Holiday Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneJuliann/pseuds/InsaneJuliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not Bucky, but he's not the Winter Soldier. Stuck somewhere in between, he struggles with all left behind from  his time with HYDRA, the fear and the memories, but receives help from Tony. Slowly, he gets better, and the two of them get closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Warmth into Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is for phantoms-fang for the Winteriron Holiday Exchange, who wanted a fluffy story with Bucky dealing with the effects of his programming and Tony helping him through it, and especially wanted a happy ending. Not sure if this really hit what you were looking for, but still, I hope you enjoy this! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Also, thanks to the-calvaree for beta'ing this and assuring me that it all flowed and was good!

The mission, Captain America, said those words, and it was like something finally broke free in the Asset’s mind.

“I’m with you till the end of the line,” and a beaten face staring up at him and….

And there was such an overwhelming sensation of _wrong_ and _protect_ and – and the Asset realized that he did not want to do these things.

 _He did not want to do this_.

So he fished Captain America from the river, dragged him to shore. He waited until he saw him breathing before forcing himself away. Officials would be showing up, and the Asset was HYDRA’s weapon. Those who were against HYDRA, those who worked with Captain America, would want to confiscate the Asset.

He should return to the repair lab, the bank vault, or to a safe house nearby and await a handler. He should turn around and complete his mission, assist HYDRA in giving the world freedom.

The Asset did none of those things. He walked away. He stole clothes that would hide him among the rest of the population, his uniform and gear too obvious (too wet and uncomfortable for ease of movement).

Captain America was familiar to him, even if he had a hard time remembering why – just flashes, moments of disconnected phrases and images and emotions. He needed to know more information to decide on a course of action.

The Asset traveled to the museum with information about Captain America’s life.

He saw an image like himself, but not.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Steve Rogers’ (the man behind Captain America) best friend. A soldier, a good man, a Howling Commando who fought to bring down HYDRA.

The Captain had called the Asset Bucky.

Perhaps… perhaps the Asset _was_ James Bucky Barnes. HYDRA had taken him… had unmade him… had _used him_.

He was furious.

He was terrified.

He ran, because he didn’t know what else to do. HYDRA had hurt him, would unmake him again if they caught him – and they would be looking for their weapon. If they got to him, they’d… they’d make him the Asset again.

If he wanted the chance to become James Barnes once more, he had to make sure HYDRA couldn’t hurt him again.

~*~*~

Steve caught up to him, eventually.

He’d known it would happen, even though he was careful not to go after large HYDRA bases. He picked off HYDRA agents one by one – easier to hide the losses, easier to hide from HYDRA – but apparently it’d been enough for Steve to track him down.

For a few moments, he’d hesitated before going with him. He remembered more. He was… well, he wasn’t Bucky Barnes, but he wasn’t HYDRA’s Asset, either.

But he knew… he knew that if he lost control to HYDRA’s programming again, somehow, he could hurt Steve. Steve wouldn’t fight back. He’d let… he already had, after all.

“Buck,” Steve said, voice just a little hoarse. Low – sincere and pleading all at once. “Nothin’ bad will happen if you come with us, I promise.”

He wanted to tell Steve not to promise impossible things. He wanted to tell Steve that he was an idiot.

It felt so hard to speak.

So he just followed Steve, like he could almost remember always doing.

~*~*~

Steve was a reckless punk.

Besides being reckless with himself in fights, besides the recklessness in bringing him here without knowing how much of HYDRA’s programming was still in effect. What was one potentially still dangerous brainwashed HYDRA Asset, after all, when he lived in a goddamn Tower with other dangerous individuals.

A science-experiment gone wrong that produced a being that might even hurt Steve.

A fucking alien that had the powers of electricity or something, and might be stronger than Steve.

A fucking Black Widow.

Not that the other members of Steve’s “team” weren’t dangerous, but those three had Bucky the most on edge for Steve’s safety.

Steve had brought him to a big fancy Tower that was the least subtle thing ever for a base of operations. (Okay, except for, perhaps, a castle. That might be a bit more obvious, but only just.)

They went to the back of the building, which Steve had explained held many civilians that weren’t cleared for much of anything. The first seventy-eight floors belonged to Stark Industries, but after that it became Avengers territory. There were no buttons on the elevator they stepped into. Steve simply said, “My floor, please,” and the elevator began to move.

“Tony’s AI, JARVIS, runs the building. If you need anything, ya just gotta ask,” Steve had said quietly.

A quick perusal of the elevator had located a camera, small and almost invisible in the ceiling. The only AI that he could recall encountering was what Zola had turned himself into. He’d only been brought to _that_ once – he had twitched, shivers trickling down his spine in icy ripples.

The doors had opened soundlessly, and he’d followed Steve out onto a spacious living area.

He hadn’t really left it much since.

Interacting with Steve… well, it wasn’t _easy_ but it wasn’t terrifying to contemplate. He knew that Steve was sad he wasn’t talking more, doing more, but Steve wasn’t pushing him. Steve’s floor was always perfectly warm, and Steve never bothered him about staying up to prowl around reaffirming the floor was secure besides the occasional comment about getting more sleep.

It was possibly the safest he’d felt in a while, and it was good to be able to keep an eye on Steve.

It lasted about a month.

~*~*~

Steve was out on some mission with the Black Widow – Natalia, he remembered her, small and big eyes and well–hidden fear – and he’d been alone on Steve’s floor for three days. The silence was painfully familiar. He’d been left in silence often, particularly when he’d displeased his handlers. Left in such total silence and isolation that he’d been oversensitive to sound and people for days afterwards, grateful to be released, desperate to make up for whatever wrong he’d done.

The memories were unsettling. Almost as much as the silence on Steve’s floor.

He hadn’t slept for two nights. He paced the floor, constantly checking for signs of infiltration, paranoid that he was hearing whispers of sounds of people sneaking up to reclaim their asset.

He walked into the living area and froze.

The elevator doors were open.

The light inside was a warm yellow, and as he stood there watching, brightened just a few degrees. He took a cautious step closer, glancing around the room intently. No signs of… anyone.

Steve had said the JARVIS AI controlled the building, controlled the elevator. The elevator to the Avengers’ floors could only be accessed by them or those they’d given explicit permission. The likelihood of someone having circumvented that… well, he wasn’t sure of how secure or effective Tony Stark’s AI was, so it was hard to say.

He stopped right outside of the elevator. The inside was clear of anything, just warm golden light and the almost unnoticeable camera on the ceiling.

He glanced back at Steve’s floor. Empty, dark, and silent.

The elevator seemed particularly welcoming.

He stepped inside, the doors closed, and for a moment his vision blurred with panic, he could feel his heartbeat throbbing in the side of his throat, his hands were unsteady.

“Sir has invited you to his floor,” a voice spoke, startling him. He glanced around, no one was there, so it must be –

“My apologies. I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s AI. He extended the invitation for any time you were available, and I took the initiative to give it to you now. Would you like to accept?”

The AI’s voice was smooth, and besides a faint almost echoing sound to it was just like a normal human’s voice. It was nothing like….

He nodded.

“Very good,” the AI said pleasantly, just before the doors opened.

This floor was sleek lines and a mix of dark wood furniture, glass, and metal. The floors were shiny and had nothing for traction, there was nothing on the walls except the occasional abstract artwork, likely picked out simply for the aesthetic of the place.

There was also faint music from somewhere farther in, and the lights were welcoming.

He wandered out of the elevator and further onto Tony Stark’s floor.

The farther in he went, the less it looked like a set-up. The hallway off of the living area went by a kitchen, which had empty coffee cups on the counter and a half-filled coffee pot. There were doors, he assumed to rooms if the set-up was similar to Steve’s floor, only one of them cracked open. He paused, glancing, and saw an unmade bed.

Further in, where Steve had an art room, was instead a music room. Guitars on the walls, a baby grand piano in the center, speakers tucked unobtrusively in all four corners. The windows were huge, almost an entire wall.

A man was seated in a rounded chair in one corner, near the windows. He was tapping a foot along to the beat of the music from the speakers, chewing his lip as he worked at a tablet.

He looked… familiar and not, all at once.

He looked like Howard Stark, from fuzzy memories, if only in hair coloring and the shape of his jaw, perhaps. The nose was wrong, the eyes shaped differently, the mouth softer.

He knew Anthony Stark from HYDRA files. Dangerous, possibly able to be manipulated into unknowingly aiding HYDRA but known to be against HYDRA otherwise.

He remembered….

Tony Stark muttered something, to which the AI JARVIS responded, “You have a guest, Sir.”

“A guest? Who – oh. Well.” He set aside the tablet and got to his feet, walking over with his hands shoved in jean pockets. A few feet away, he stopped, but he was smiling easily, honestly so far as the Asset – as _he_ could tell.

“Nice to finally meet you. Tony Stark.”

Tony Stark held out a hand and he stared at it, struggling for a moment. All he had to do was reach out… place his hand in Tony’s… trust that… that…

Without a change in expression, the hand dropped, slipping back into its pocket. “You prefer going by Bucky or is that just for Steve to use?”

He couldn’t find words. Couldn’t make his voice work. He shrugged, helpless.

He wasn’t sure he even knew how to answer that.

“Okay, well, I can call you Barnes, or James, or Bucky. Whichever makes you comfortable.”

He swallowed. It took effort to open his mouth, to speak, left him uneasy and on edge. But he said, “James.” He wasn’t even sure it was the right answer – an _honest_ answer, but….

But he wasn’t Bucky Barnes, same as he wasn’t the Asset. He _wasn’t_ because they’d unmade Bucky Barnes to put the Asset in his place, and now he was left without either of them and –

“Alright, James it is.” Tony Stark grinned, eyes crinkling. “Did JARVIS say anything about sleep to you?”

He frowned slightly, confused.

“Good, ignore him if he tries to tell you that I should be sleeping. If I could sleep, I would, you know?”

He nodded. He did know, at least, he understood the sentiment. If he could sleep, truly sleep without waking from horrific nightmares or from sudden surges of paranoia that the floor wasn't secure, he would.

“You hungry? Want coffee or something?”

Tony Stark didn’t wait for a reply, just walking forward, causing James to back out of the way. He jerked his head back down the hall, towards where Bucky had come from.

“C’mon. I think I have leftover Chinese take-out, and it tastes best at two in the morning, I know from experience.”

Tony chattered as they walked down the hall, and the kitchen lit up as soon as they approached, music playing softly from somewhere.

Noise and light and company.

James sat at the breakfast bar and picked at whatever container Tony seemed to be finished grabbing from. Tony made them hot chocolates – “Coffee doesn’t do anything to help this late, but chocolate is good for the soul, my mom would always say,” – that were possibly the most delicious thing James had tasted since he’d began to break free of what HYDRA had done to him.

James wondered how long he could stay before Tony would make him leave.

~*~*~

The answer apparently was ‘however long he wanted’ because Tony didn’t make any moves or implications that James should leave for the next four days. So he didn’t leave, not until Steve returned.

But now, whenever he couldn’t sleep with the feeling of unease about floor security, he would step into the elevator and JARVIS would take him to Tony’s floor. Tony talked, and music played in the background, and it was light and… reassuring.

It took two months for James to admit to Tony that he often couldn’t sleep because he feared the integrity of the floor’s security.

Tony responded by showing him how to access the security panels to review all audio and video.

And that… helped.

James stopped visiting in the middle of the night or when Steve was on missions because of his unease, and more because he enjoyed Tony’s company.

~*~*~

“Bucky? What are you doing here?”

He froze, for a moment completely terrified. Steve was on Tony’s floor – he was back early, or perhaps James had just overslept for once, and he was on Tony’s floor instead of Steve’s, where Steve had left him.

“Oh, Winghead, back already?” Tony asked, walking around from behind James, absently brushing his fingers over James’s arm as he did ever since the one time he’d startled James when walking by.

“Intel was old, place was empty,” Steve said distractedly, still frowning at James in confusion.

James stared back.

“Eh,” Tony said, face scrunching. He passed a cup of hot chocolate to James, glancing over when he didn’t immediately take it. “Hey, James,” he said. “Sit down.”

The order was gentled with understanding that was almost painful to hear. James looked down, shoulders tense, and sat at his seat at the breakfast counter. Tony pushed the hot chocolate over to him and waited until James took it to smile at him.

“Want anything Steve?” Tony asked.

“Uh… sure. Coffee is good.”

“Alright, still want it black as pitch?” He turned for the coffee machine and cupboards, stretching up to pull one more down.

Steve walked into the kitchen, into James’ view, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Tony, I still want my coffee black.”

“Heathen,” Tony said cheerfully, pouring and then passing the cup to Steve. He finally made his own, lifting up to sit on the breakfast counter, his heels thumping quietly in an absent rhythm.

“You two seem… friendly,” Steve said awkwardly.

James’ fingers flexed around the coffee cup, for a moment expecting… he wasn’t sure what, but something bad.

Punishment, perhaps, of some sort. For making friends, for leaving Steve’s floor, for hiding this from him.

“What, I was supposed to just sit around with no one to talk to all the times you guys go out without me?” Tony joked.

Steve gave Tony a fondly exasperated look. “You act like we leave you here by yourself, or that you’re not along with us more often than not.”

James couldn’t remember a time both Steve and Tony had been gone.

“Yes, well, I can make friends that aren’t teammates, Winghead.”

Steve laughed, teasing, “Well I’m very proud, Shellhead. Going and making friends all by yourself.”

Tony stuck out his tongue, oddly upbeat, and glanced at James, winking.

~*~*~

One moment, he’d been fine. He’d been sitting with Tony on the couch, watching a random action movie on the TV. It was raining, Steve was in the kitchen with Sam Wilson making lunch for all of them. It’d been fine, he’d been only slightly uneasy with Sam Wilson joining the three of them for their now somewhat regular afternoons hanging out together.

James liked those afternoons.

It’d been fine.

Then it wasn’t.

~*~*~

Tony’d been fiddling on his tablet, trying to decide if James was comfortable enough yet to let Tony at least give that arm a check-up (he sometimes heard a faint whine that had him slightly concerned), when next to him James went stiff.

He looked up, frowning, to find James expressionless. There was nothing on his face, not a damned thing, and he sat straight and tense.

“James?” he called.

There was a slight twitch of fingers, a slight widening of his eyes. Tony was going to try again – sometimes a change in tone helped James through difficult moments, either softening or firming it into something like an order – except Steve and Sam walked in, not bothering to keep the noise down, and James _moved_.

He was up and had a knife in hand (from where, Tony had no idea, and maybe that should concern him more than it did), facing Steve and Sam and snarling something in what Tony thought might be Russian. Tony’s Russian wasn’t very good, but he’d heard it from Natasha enough to think that maybe James’ wasn’t that great, either.

If he hadn’t had much of a chance to use it, despite always hearing it, that’d make sense. Tony didn’t think HYDRA had wanted their ‘asset’ talking very often, or whoever had had him back then.

“Buck, it’s alright, we – “

James backed up when Steve stepped forward, hands out in some effort to reassure or calm James. He reached back without looking and yanked Tony up from the couch.

“No!” Steve shouted, leaping forward.

Tony stumbled when James shoved him back and clashed with Steve in the middle.

Both of them moved too fast for Tony to follow actual moves, catching more of the movement than anything. The knife caught the light and flashed every once in a while, and Steve was talking, quick and insistent.

“Bucky, I’m your friend. Buck, you don’t want to do this, we’re friends, you’re not the Soldier anymore!”

Sam was tense and ready to move when he had a shot. Tony looked around quickly, stretched out his arm, and summoned part of the suit to him. It encased his arm, a comforting pressure and weight, and Tony aimed carefully.

The blast was at the lowest setting he had, and barely singed the carpet.

“Alright, break it up,” he barked. “No super-soldier battles in my goddamn living room.” He glared at the two, then Sam for good measure. “Steve, Sam, out.”

“But – “

“Out, Steve,” Tony said, giving him a stern look. Steve hesitated, glancing at James, but James was standing there watching him intently, suspiciously.

Steve, thankfully, listened and started walking to the elevator with Sam.

“You have JARVIS call if you need backup, Shellhead,” he called back.

Tony nodded, more focused on James now that Steve and Sam were out of sight.

He waited, ready for almost anything, but James just… went loose, like the tension had been sucked right out of him and left a limp doll behind. It was… kind of scary, really.

He stared at Tony and just… stood there.

Tony lowered his arm. He walked cautiously forward, but James didn’t do anything, just waited, watching Tony with his head bowed slightly, hair falling into his face. Really, it could probably use a trim, if he wanted to keep it long. And someone should get James some hairbands by now, really, show him YouTube videos of how to put his hair in a bun or ponytail or something. Pepper could probably show him, next time she was around.

“I’ll make note of it, Sir,” JARVIS said, sounding amused. Tony made a face at the closest camera.

James still stood there, waiting. Tony thought maybe he could see a hint of uncertainty there. Maybe he was just imagining it, though.

Sighing, Tony said, “C’mon,” and walked into the kitchen. He gestured at the bar stool James usually took when visiting, got down their two cups, and began making hot chocolate. James sat, growing more and more tense the longer he sat there.

Tony couldn’t understand why. He didn’t really… ask James about what bothered him. Sometimes it was easy to figure out – that he feared making people mad with him, that he didn’t like the dark or the quiet – but other times Tony needed to hear it, like how James was afraid that the floors weren’t safe from being infiltrated.

Because he was afraid HYDRA was going to steal him away again.

Understandable – Tony’d been afraid of waking up to find himself back in those caves for a lot longer than he would be comfortable admitting to anyone. Except, maybe, James. If hearing that would, somehow, help. Maybe.

Tony slid the hot chocolate over to him and sat across with his coffee.

“Go ahead and drink that. Chocolate might help, who knows,” he mused. “Mom sure thought it would help with anything.” He waited until James took a sip of hot chocolate (mechanically, obediently, it made Tony furious and sick) before continuing to talk.

“I was… well, Howard would have told you I was a sissy, when I was a kid. Sent me off to boarding school in hopes that it’d make me more of a man. He yelled at me a lot, I was always in his way I guess, or not doing good enough for him…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, when I was upset over anything – Dad yelling, a skinned knee, bad dream – and she was around, she’d take me into the kitchen and make hot chocolate. No matter if it was the middle of the night, or she was in the middle of doing something during the day, if I needed to feel better, she’d pick me up and take me into the kitchen and we’d make hot chocolate.”

He stared at the counter, unfocused. “When I got older she did it less. The times she did, she’d add… well, she’d add stuff to her own drink that she wouldn’t put in mine. Wasn’t until I was maybe eleven? Wasn’t till around then that I realized she was as much of an alcoholic as Dad, if a different kind. Guess the apple didn’t fall far from either tree, there,” he mused.

“No,” James said. His voice was hoarse and almost silent, but Tony could hear him.

Tony looked up and raised a brow. “No? James, babe, don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a drink in my hand more often than not. I’m aware of… of it, okay.”

James rolled his eyes, which was such a relief that Tony couldn’t help grinning. If James felt safe enough to roll his eyes at Tony, instead of staring at him like he was waiting for Tony to _do_ something to him, then they’d get over this slip.

“You’re not like them,” he said simply. It was one of the longer things Tony had heard him say, which was just as startling as what he said.

“Not sure you got any evidence to back you up there, Robocop.”

He got a quirked brow for the nickname, obviously because James had no idea what he was talking about. Still, James just said, “You’re not.” He stood, carrying his hot chocolate out to the couch, and settled into the corner, waiting for Tony to take a seat again. Tony wasn’t sure if he should sit close or far, so he sat in the middle. James didn’t react either way.

“Good to call Steve and Sam back?”

James tilted his head, thinking, and nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“J, give them the okay,” Tony called. “And maybe pick a different movie,” he added, recalling that right before James had tensed up that there’d been gunfire and foreign words.

Maybe Russian.

Maybe a trigger.

~*~*~

“I’m sorry!”

“James, it’s okay,” Tony said soothingly. From the floor.

Because James had shoved him there the second Tony had touched the arm. They’d tried to work on it in Tony’s workshop – and part of James had been fascinated with all the advanced technology, with how much of the _future_ there was in that place. But the rest of him, most of him sadly, had only been able to think of the computers and panels and equipment HYDRA had used to control him, to hurt him, to punish him….

He’d not reacted well, so Tony had suggested they look at the arm somewhere more comfortable.

Except the living room, usually non-threatening, had felt like it was closing in on him. And Tony’s touch, as gentle and respectful as always, had suddenly felt like a trick, a lie, to let Tony close to touch him, to hurt him, to –

“I’m sorry,” he said miserably.

Tony sat up onto his knees, reaching out to James. He didn’t touch, his hands hovering over James’ own. “None of this is your fault,” Tony said, tone firm but voice quiet. “You are not to blame for what they’ve done to you. I knew the arm would be a touchy subject.”

“I told you – “

“Still okay,” Tony interrupted. He smiled, more cheerful than James thought the situation warranted. “But we both know your arm needs some maintenance, so how about this. I’ll talk you through what I can. You’d be in control of things the entire time, can stop if you want to or keep going. Yeah?”

Slowly, James nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. It worked, mostly. He felt a bit like he was doing something he shouldn’t. He’d not even been allowed to watch the technicians work on his arm before, so getting so close with it, knowing it like this… it felt somewhat forbidden. But Tony just kept chattering between instructions, sometimes twisting a bit to peer at the arm and let James know what he saw that needed work.

“Some of it’ll have to be done by me, sorry about that, but this’ll help hold it over until we get to that point.”

“Thank you, Tony,” James said softly, closing his arm.

Tony practically beamed at him. “Anytime.”

~*~*~

It was snowing.

It was snowing, and the cold cut through the Asset’s clothes, but it was ignored. He lined up his sights to remove the target – among a crowd of people at a busy building full of cars and people and warmth.

He couldn’t hear the screams of horror he could see on the faces that passed through his sight before he packed away the rifle, moving from his location to the designated pick-up point. The cold had seeped into him, into his bones. He hated the cold. Almost as much as he hated silence.

No. No, he did not hate anything. He was the Asset. He was a weapon, HYDRA’s fist, and weapons did not _feel_.

But he hated the cold and silence.

He should report that to handlers. He wouldn’t. It was a small malfunction, but would not interfere with his functioning as the weapon.

The snow kept falling, and the Asset waited, and hated the silence and cold.

When the handlers and agents of HYDRA arrived, he ejected the ammo, checked the chamber, and placed the weapon on the ground. As protocol demanded, he stepped back three steps before kneeling. The snow was uncomfortable and cold against his knees, unpleasant.

Agents trained their weapons on him as a handler approached, while another began collecting his weapon. They asked the Asset something, but the language was… unfamiliar.

Looking irritated, the handler repeated in English, “Mission report.”

“Successful elimination of target. Maximum publicity as requested,” he said dutifully. It was cold, if no longer silent, but he was… he was….

His hands were trembling finely. He’d not noticed earlier, because it had been so cold and silent.

His hands were trembling, his heart rate was above average, and there was a sound in his ears like screams, as if he could suddenly hear the horror he’d only seen earlier.

The handler’s eyes narrowed. The obvious displeasure did not mean good things for the Asset, even if the mission had been successful. His heart rate gained speed, the trembling turned to shaking, and the Asset felt numb everywhere, could not even feel the cold any longer. He wanted to double over and heave, but…

But he could not recall when he had eaten last.

The Asset still required fuel to function, but he could not recall the last time he had eaten a meal.

The handlers were speaking, not in English but the Asset suddenly remembered this language, could understand it.

“– lapses are more frequent, take him back to the lab, see if they can’t do something about it.”

The lab. The lab with the chair and the pain and the _burning cold_ and the silence and –

No. No, the Asset would not return there.

He would be punished for resisting.

Possibly he would be punished regardless. But if he could escape… no more punishments, no more cold, no more silence.

The handler with his weapon was sloppy. He had it in hand, was only just out of the Asset’s reach. He calculated, examined the agents who mostly seemed to have let their guards down, weapons not quite pointing at the Asset. They would have to readjust. Their reactions times would be slowed by surprise and the cold.

He lunged forward and –

 

James jerked out of bed, scrambling into a corner and curling up. Immediately JARVIS began talking to him, a soothing litany of the date, time, his location. The temperature of the room was warm, but not enough, because the Asset – James, James could not stop shaking with how cold he felt. Chills were racing all through him, through every part of him, because he was cold, so damned cold.

“Would you like me to locate someone to assist you, Mister James?”

Someone to assist? He wanted to say no immediately, wanted to say that no, he didn’t want anyone near him, didn’t trust someone not to trick him and hurt him. Punish him for – Steve though. Steve wouldn’t hurt him, because Steve only wanted to protect people. He only hurt bullies. He hurt HYDRA, not Bucky.

But Steve didn’t know how to help with this, had said so once. He didn’t know how to help Bucky, he wished he did but he didn’t, if Bucky would only tell him how he could help, Steve would do it in a heartbeat.

Steve made sure HYDRA didn’t have the power to hurt Bucky anymore. And that helped. But not with this…

“Tony,” he managed to croak.

“I shall have Sir come post-haste.”

He wasn’t sure how long it was – a few minutes, ten minutes, longer – but Tony was there, somewhat suddenly. Perhaps the Asset, no, perhaps _James_ hadn’t noticed him arrive. Dangerous lack of awareness, that.

“Can you look at me, James?” Tony asked, so calm and his voice was gentle was soothing was familiar and comforting.

He shook his head.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Guessing talking is a little too much right now?” He waited for James to nod before continuing. “JARVIS said you woke from sleeping like this, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess nightmare?” He made a sympathetic noise. “I have those. Not so badly, now, but… well, once it was bad enough that I called for a suit in my sleep, and it attacked Pepper. She didn’t exactly appreciate that.

“I didn’t exactly handle it well, either. Would stay up for days, working on suits. Was kind of terrified I wouldn’t have enough to protect people, protect Pepper. Of course, doing all of that almost lost me Pepper, so it wasn’t a good time for me all around, but, the point is, once I started acknowledging I had a, you know, bit of an anxiety and PTSD thing going on, I started doing better. Probably because I, you know, wasn’t pretending I was okay or focusing on other things instead.”

“Pepper your gal?”

He glanced up, just a bit, enough to see the grin on Tony’s face.

“She was. We broke up – was rough for a while but we’re good now. Better as friends, you know, and as business partners, and at least I can say it wasn’t any of _that_ that broke us up. Maybe Iron Man was part of it, but it wasn’t the main reason.”

James lifted his head and rested his chin on his knees. Tony smiled at him for it, head tilting. “How can I help?”

“Your chatterin’ always does,” he mumbled.

Tony laughed. “Sure, I can keep talking. Anything else?”

He still felt cold. He hesitated, unwilling or unsure about admitting it.

Punishment still felt like a hazy thing hanging over him.

Tony watched him, thoughtful, before abruptly admitting, “I had to sleep in secure spaces after Afghanistan. Places I knew no one could get into. So basically, I slept in the workshop.”

“No one can get in there?”

“Pepper, and Rhodey.” Tony shrugged. “I gave the team codes to get in, but not at the same level. You have a code,” he added, seemingly casual.

James started. “I do?”

Tony hummed and nodded. “You just gotta ask JARVIS if you ever wanna go down there, he’ll let you in.”

“It…” It scared him, down there.

Tony nodded. “No rush. If you ever want a tour, I’ll give you one, but there’s no reason for you to go down there until you want to.”

“I’m cold,” James admitted.

“Blankets and if that doesn’t work, we’ll have to go for some cuddling,” Tony said, with an almost dire expression.

James snorted.

Grinning again, Tony popped to his feet and held out his hand. “Let’s go. We stopped at a good point in Star Trek, and I’m eager to see what you have to say about this next bit.”

~*~*~

The nightmares kept happening, with a sadly increasing regularity. But the more that Tony coaxed him out of his room in the middle of the night and to the common floor, the more James realized that this was a thing _all_ the Avengers did.

He and Tony were sitting on the couch, James with his head on Tony’s shoulder and Tony’s fingers running soothingly through his hair, when Clint Barton stumbled through, hollow-eyed, with Natalia at his side.

For a moment, they paused, Natalia and Tony exchanging looks that communicated something. James shifted, just a bit, and Tony leaned back more into the couch in response.

“No making fun of our movie choice,” Tony said easily.

Natalia’s lips twitched, and Barton gave a half-hearted middle finger, and they settled onto the other couch in the room, Barton curling up with his head in Natalia’s lap. Her fingers rubbed soothing circles over his chest both of them staring unseeingly at the TV screen. After a while, James managed to relax enough to stop watching them, to focus again on the show and Tony’s fingers in his hair.

Another night it was Steve they found in the living room already, blankets over his shoulders and curled up tightly, like he was trying to be small again. If Bucky wasn’t feeling so off-balance himself, he’d have gone right over and tried to help, because Steve shouldn’t look so lost and sad.

“Hey, Winghead, want some company?”

Steve gave a little smile, shifting as if he’d thought about straightening and pretending to be okay and then thought better of it.

“Would appreciate it.”

Tony sat in the middle, sprawling out to take up more space than his frame would suggest. Steve shifted closer, mumbling something that made Tony huff a laugh and stroke a hand over Steve’s hair.

He looked at James and smiled, lifting his other arm, a clear offering for James to curl up there.

Slowly, he did.

“Who needs heaters when you have two super-soldiers,” Tony joked. James rolled his eyes, glancing over to catch the same kind of expression on Steve’s face. He managed a weak grin in response to Steve’s amusement.

“Okay, JARVIS, key up something both these boys haven’t seen that is on the list.”

“Right away, Sir,” JARVIS said. Tony chattered all through the movie, quiet and not disruptive, but there to keep the silence away.

James dozed off, and when he woke up, all the other two were still there, sleeping as well.

It was good to realize he wasn’t the only one struggling, with nightmares and bad memories and horrors from the past.

It was even better, perhaps, to be able to help, though.

One night, JARVIS woke him. It was unusual, because James rarely slept through the night, so when he did no one bothered him until he actually got out of bed, not even if they’d had plans for the morning and he was oversleeping.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mister James, Sir could use some company at this moment.”

Bucky got in the elevator, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and stepped off onto Tony’s floor. He was awake by the time he got to Tony’s room, pushing the door open to find Tony sitting in his bed and breathing quickly, hands in his hair, eyes wide and unseeing.

He went and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Tony?”

Tony startled, flinching away, staring at James for a moment like he didn’t know who he was – and then looking away quickly, uncomfortable.

“Sorry – bad dream. Get them, still.”

James nodded, slow and thoughtful.

“We should watch the last Indiana Jones movie.”

“Steve’ll be pissed we watched it without him,” Tony mumbled, but he was rolling out of his bed, arms crossed protectively over his chest. Bucky purposefully did not look there, did not look at the reactor. It would make sense that Tony had nightmares about it – from what little he’d learned, getting it had been traumatic, and Tony had hinted that someone he trusted had tried to steal it before.

Bucky had nightmares about the arm plenty enough to understand completely how vulnerable Tony could be feeling.

He wasn’t as good at making hot chocolate or coffee as Tony was, but he did passably. Tony seemed grateful regardless when James brought him a large mug of coffee, plenty of whipped cream on the top, and settled next to Tony with his own whipped-cream-topped hot chocolate.

Tony leaned against his side as the movie started, letting out a slow sigh.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Bucky put his arm around Tony’s shoulders, squeezing.

~*~*~

“You and Tony are close,” Steve said.

Bucky glanced at him, raising a brow. It was just light enough to make out Steve’s expression, which was pointedly casual.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky twisted to jog backwards, facing Steve, and demanded, “So?”

Steve rolled his eyes back at him, exasperated. “I’m not sayin’ it’s a bad thing, Buck, jeez. Don’t be so defensive.”

“I’m not,” he denied, twisting back around. Sam was up ahead, and he grinned, looking at Steve. “C’mon, let’s pass him again.”

Steve laughed and picked up the pace as well, and they shouted warnings at Sam as they raced by, laughing at his “You guys are assholes!” retort.

They kept the faster pace for a few moments, but slowed again back to something more casual for them.

“I just… I donno, guess I was wondering if there was something going on there.”

Bucky shot Steve a look. “I don’t know – is there something going on with you and Sam?”

Steve flushed, tellingly, but demanded, “I asked you first.”

Snorting, Bucky took a few moments before shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He twitched his shoulders, dispelling gathering tension. He had no reason to feel guilty or worried about telling Steve about his feelings. Feelings were acceptable. Hell, probably it’d make Steve _thrilled_ for Bucky to talk about them more.

“He’s safe,” Bucky said after struggling for a long moment to figure out how to explain it to Steve. Tony was… was safety and comfort and the happy feeling in James’ chest. He was light and noise and company.

“I think you’re good for each other, if that means anything,” Steve said, slowing down. Bucky did as well, looking at the ground. He looked back up when Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly at him. “You two look happier these days.”

“He makes me happy,” Bucky agreed.

“And you make him happier, too, trust me.” James had stopped being surprised when Steve understood his fears so well, even when Bucky sometimes didn’t.

Sam caught up to them, breathing heavily, and Bucky watched as Steve just… lit up, grinning, teasing Sam. He looked happier simply for Sam being there, and Bucky wondered if that’s what Steve saw when Bucky and Tony were together. Like they lit up from the inside around the other.

He didn’t think he was ready for more… but maybe. One day.

~*~*~

Bucky was exercising in the gym, music playing loudly, when it cut off abruptly.

“Mister James, I require your assistance.”

He got to his feet, heading to the elevator JARVIS had opened for him and stepped inside, glancing up at the camera.

“What’s wrong?”

JARVIS sounded tense, urgency only barely hidden under his usual calm.

“While on the mission with the rest of the Avengers, Sir was forced to use the reactor for a power source.”

He frowned. “That… wait.” He knew enough about the reactor, about what it did, to know that for it to be used as a power source meant… “He took it _out?”_

“Yes.” JARVIS’ displeasure and worry were clear in how simply he spoke.

“Fuck. He has spares though, right?” Bucky checked, fingers tapping at his thigh, too much energy suddenly flooding him.

“In the workshop,” JARVIS confirmed. “The Avengers are already returning to the Tower. Their estimated arrival is twenty-three minutes.”

“Okay. So one of them can run down and get it, right?” What did JARVIS need him for, what could he possibly do to help?

“I could override the security of the workshop in the case of a life or death situation regarding Sir’s health,” JARVIS said, oddly evasive. “However, when concerning the reactor, every minute counts. It’d be in Sir’s best interests for a replacement to be waiting when they land so it can be installed immediately.”

Bucky frowned, feeling oddly wary when the doors opened again.

On the workshop floor.

His heart began to race.

“JARVIS,” he said, croaked, hands shaking, backing up a step. “JARVIS, I can’t.”

“Please,” JARVIS said simply. “Please at least attempt to retrieve the reactor. Sir’s vitals are not doing as well as Doctor Banner would like, and the time it would take for an Avenger to come here and retrieve the reactor, then return to Sir, would be a waste of precious time.”

Bucky swallowed. “You can override it for me?” he reconfirmed.

“I would not have to,” JARVIS said. “Your codes have access.”

Bucky would… deal with that, later, when he wasn’t trying to convince himself to step out of the elevator into the workshop. Goosebumps were rising over his arm, chills making him want to retreat to the living room and blankets and couch.

“How long?”

“Fifteen more minutes to their arrival on the eighty-first floor.”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky stepped out of the elevator into the workshop. The lights came on instantly, bright and clear in most places, warm yellow light over a row of fancy cars, one with the engine halfway disassembled on a tarp next to it.

In one corner of the room, one of Tony’s bots lifted up and made noises.

“Where?” he asked, voice tight.

JARVIS lit a section of the workshop, an unobtrusive desk at the far side of the workshop, on the other side of the cars. “Second drawer on the right. Your access code to the workshop should work for the lock.”

“Don’t even know what it is,” Bucky grumbled, walking purposefully forward. He ignored everything except his target – the desk.

His hands were shaking when he crouched down in front of the drawer, a small keypad keeping it closed.

“JARVIS?”

“32557038.”

He sucked in a breath – he knew that number, he repeated it along with his mantra of being free and safe, when Tony was away on a business trip and the memories or nightmares left him drifting between who he was and who HDYRA had made him, left him thinking of _handlers_ first.

He punched it in, fast, and as soon as he heard the soft click of it unlocking, yanked the drawer open so hard it spilled out at his feet. Whatever. There was a spare reactor there, two or three of them, and he grabbed one and _bolted_ back to the elevator.

It closed behind him before he even turned around.

He doubled over, panting, struggling to catch his breath. He was shaking and the adrenaline was surging but he was… he’d done it.

He was okay, he was safe, he was free, he was okay, he was safe, he was free –

The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and Bucky straightened.

“The arrival of the Quinjet should be in a few minutes, Mister James. Agent Barton has been pushing the engines beyond the suggested speeds.”

“I bet,” Bucky muttered, leaning back against the wall. The reactor in his hands was a bit heavier than he’d have expected. He lifted it up, scanning it, part of his mind unable to help but catalogue it like he would any kind of weapon.

Whatever Tony had needed to use it as a power source for must have been big to – he was assuming – drain it. Or perhaps it had somehow destroyed it, though Bucky couldn’t guess how. The reactor was sturdy in his hands, made with care and strong materials.

He looked up when he heard the engines, watched the plane land and Steve leap out before the ramp fully lowered.

Bucky met him halfway, nodding shortly in response to Steve’s quick, questioning look. He was okay, he was safe, he was unharmed, he was –

He’d be fine.

“James, quickly,” Natalia called.

He darted past Steve, up into the ‘jet, and followed her over to where Banner was in some kind of mini-medical bay. Tony was unconscious on a cot, looking… awful.

Natalia tried to pluck the reactor from him, and he reacted without thinking, drawing one of her knives from the sheath on her thigh and twisting it, placing it against her throat. Her fingers released the reactor.

“James. We need to install it, now.”

He stared at her, struggling – because everything that had made him a weapon said not to trust a Black Widow with the life of someone that mattered, and everything that made him James Bucky Barnes said that Natasha would not let Tony die. They were friends, if in an odd way that didn’t make full sense to Bucky.

“I need to put it in,” she continued. Her eyes were just a little wider than normal, her tone insistent because she was worried. Maybe even a bit frantic. “Your hands are too large, Banner’s are too large, mine are the only ones small enough to connect the relays again. Please, let me help him.”

His hand tightened on the knife.

“Bucky,” Steve said, pleading. He shot Steve a dirty look, even as he lowered the knife and handed Natalia the reactor.

“If he dies….”

Steve nodded. “I know. I’ll hold you down.”

Bucky grimaced.

“ _I’ll_ hold you down,” Banner offered, even as he focused intensely on what Natalia was doing. “Won’t be able to stop the Other Guy from coming out, anyway.”

Bucky nodded.

Everyone must have been holding their breath when the reactor finally was locked into place with a near-silent click. They held it for the few seconds afterwards, waiting, and then Banner relaxed, hand bracing him against the edge of the cot.

“Vitals are stabilizing.”

“Thank god,” Steve muttered, slumping back against a wall, sliding down it to the floor. “Oh, thank god.”

Bucky felt almost dizzy with the relief. He realized he still had Natalia’s knife, and flipped it to pass it handle-first back to her. She took it with a slight smile, understanding, and went to hold a hand out to Steve.

“C’mon, Rogers, you know he won’t stay in medical so we might as well go grab some take-out or pizzas or something now for when he starts whining about how hungry he is.”

Steve huffed a laugh, but took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. “Yeah. Okay.”

He glanced at Bucky, likely going to ask if he wanted to tag along but Bucky shook his head. “Gonna stay here.”

“You can help me move him,” Banner said, glancing past him at Steve and nodding.

Once the others were gone – Barton slipping by quietly to join Natalia and Steve – Banner looked at him over his glasses, considering.

“Maybe he’ll listen to you, if you’re the one lecturing him about not making self-sacrificing moves without at least forewarning the team.”

Bucky snorted. “Doubt it.”

The little smile on Banner’s face made him want to scowl. “Oh, I don’t know. Tony sure does care about what you think. It might actually make him at least consider telling us when he’s going to do things like that.”

“What exactly did he do?” Bucky asked, lifting the cot when Banner gestured for him to.

“He hooked the reactor into a machine controlling the time stream, overloading it so it would explode,” Banner said, casual as fucking anything.

Bucky almost dropped the damned cot. “ _What?”_

~*~*~

Tony was sore, had the fresh test of metal and coconut in his mouth, and could feel scratchy blankets against his arms.

He groaned. “Brucey, you better not have put me in medical again.”

“Banner’s taking a nap,” said an unexpected voice. “Just me here.” A pause, then, “And you bet your ass you’re in medical after that shit.”

Tony squinted his eyes open, peering over to his left to see James sitting there, scowling. He was in workout clothes, hair pulled back into a ponytail, loose strands hanging around his eyes. Which did not look very happy.

Tony grimaced and closed his eyes again. “It’s too bright,” he whined. “Medical needs new lighting, ones that don’t try to blind you. And we need to find some way to make it smell less like a hospital, JARVIS, make a note.”

“Of course, Sir,” JARVIS said, sounding that perfect mix of fond and resigned.

“Good. Team have any trouble getting to the reactor?” he asked, fighting back a yawn afterwards.

God, it was draining every time this happened. Not that it happened _often_ – Tony thought that it’d only been four or five times since he’d _gotten_ the reactor that he’d had to take one out and wait longer than was comfortable for a replacement to be inserted. And that included Stane, so really, Tony wasn’t doing too bad for having a big glaring weakness in the middle of his chest.

His father had always sneered about Tony wearing his heart on his sleeve. He’d probably be pissed about Tony having a big glowing vulnerability in the shape of a mechanical heart.

“Team didn’t get your reactor,” James said. “I did.”

Tony paused at that. Even as long as he’d been in the Tower – almost a year now, Tony thought, maybe – James hadn’t ventured into the workshop after that first, somewhat disastrous first time.

“Uh… thanks?”

What did someone say to that, anyway?

James snorted. Tony opened one eye carefully, then the other, turning his head to watch as James shifted in his seat, giving Tony a wry kind of look. “Yeah, welcome.” He rolled his eyes. “You should keep damned replacements on the Quinjet, idiot.”

“I… had one. Forgot to replace it,” Tony admitted. He shifted, sitting upright. Thankfully James didn’t try to help, just watched him closely.

“I almost stabbed Natalia,” he said, seemingly out of nowhere. Tony frowned.

“I kind of want to make a comment about how it’d be ironic, but I don’t think you mean it in the same context as when she stabbed me.”

James scowled again, shifting forward. “She _stabbed_ you?”

Tony winced. “Ah, kind of? It was to help me, if that you know, makes it better. She stabbed me with a needle, I mean, you know – I’m just gonna stop because you’re not looking like this is helping.”

“Not particularly,” James growled. He took a deep breath, but remained leaning forwards, towards Tony. “She went to take the reactor from me, and I… didn’t want to let her.”

“Smallest hands, kind of only one who could,” Tony mused. “I had Pepper do it once, except she made me swear never again.”

James sighed, which made Tony look at him worriedly. It was a tired sound, and Tony knew he was difficult to deal with, and it wouldn’t be the first time that… all of this was too much for someone to handle.

“Stop chattering for a second and let me talk, Tony.”

“Okay….”

James looked at him, sighed again, and reached out to grab his hand tightly. Tony stared at it. It wasn’t like they didn’t touch, all the time, which was nice because Tony liked touching the people he liked, and liked being touched by them (Pepper had said once that he seemed almost touch-starved which Tony had told her was ridiculous) but this seemed… different.

“My head… sometimes, you know, I still slip. I still think like the Asset and not like _me_. When I’m stressed out, distressed or extra emotional, you know.” He paused, head tilting, eyes focused on their hands. “I was worried, and kind of coming down off of the adrenaline rush of being in the workshop – “

“I’m sorry,” Tony couldn’t help but say. James gave him a small scolding look but just squeezed his hand.

“S’fine now. Just… you were vulnerable, and Natalia is a Black Widow.” He tapped his head with his other hand. “I know Black Widows, and it was… I was thinkin’ I couldn’t trust her not to hurt someone that matters, even as I knew she was part of your team and cared.”

Tony licked his lips. He didn’t want to presume, but…. “Someone that matters.”

James hummed, a soft agreeing note, still staring at their hands. His thumb ran over Tony’s knuckles.

Swallowing, Tony said, “Like Steve matters.”

James finally looked up at him, grey eyes dark and so _not_ empty of expression that Tony had a hard time identifying it all.

“No. Not like Steve matters,” James said softly.

He leaned forward, over Tony, and kissed him.

Soft, hardly pressing their lips together, so careful. But in no way did Tony not feel the affection behind it, the tenderness and the care and the –

James sighed when he pulled back a little bit, resting his forehead against Tony’s.

“Banner wanted me to lecture you about warning your team when you’re going to do stupid shit like this,” he breathed.

“How about you lecture me later and kiss me some more now,” Tony offered.

James smiled. “Okay. I like that plan.”

~*~*~

There were still nightmares. There were still times Bucky slipped, found himself thinking more like the Asset than James Barnes. He only went to help the team if it was desperately needed, because he didn’t want to fight anymore. Sometimes it felt too comfortable to take part of. He wasn’t sure he would ever be fully comfortable with it, but what helped was that he hardly ever shot to kill, that when he did it was clearly to protect the Avengers. Picking off a bot going after Tony, sniping a HYDRA agent sneaking up on Natalia, punching one of the monsters double-teaming Steve so hard its neck broke.

But it was easier to be himself. Bucky had Steve at his side again, and the rest of the Avengers as friends, and Tony. He was doing better, every week he thought that he was in a slightly better place than before. It was easier to be around the others without waiting for someone to attack. Easier to talk without fearing he’d be punished for speaking, for what he said, for having an opinion and feelings.

It was easier to wake up and experience that moment of uncertainty, of not knowing who he was or where he was, and roll onto his side to see Tony sleeping peacefully next to him. It was easier not to feel cold when Tony was warmth and light right there in his arms.

And if it was too quiet, he only had to wake Tony up and ask for chatter.

Tony never failed to provide the noise Bucky needed to feel safe, sometimes until Bucky fell back asleep in their bed, sometimes while they went to the couch and settled in for a movie, usually with a hot chocolate in Bucky’s hands. Sometimes they were joined by others, sometimes they were alone.

It wasn’t like before he’d been remade, but that was okay. He’d remade himself this time, and he liked who he was.

After all.

He got to kiss Tony whenever he wanted.


End file.
